The Island
by Satan Abraham
Summary: When the plane crashes on an island in the Atlantic Ocean, Ray Garraty figures that they'll be rescued soon and he'll be able to get back to his girlfriend. But as weeks pass and there's no rescue, and as Ray gets closer to another boy on this island, he wonders if this will actually happen or if he'll be on the island forever. AU.
1. Chapter 1

When Raymond Garraty woke up, he was lying on a beach and had absolutely no idea how he'd gotten there.

He remembered boarding a plane and he remembered the plane going down. Anything between that and now waking up, he didn't know. Maybe if he figured out where he was, it would be easier to remember what had happened.

He sat up, glancing around. His head hurt, and he had to squint against the sun to see what was going on around him.

There were motionless boys scattered around him in the sand. Dead? Garraty thought so, though he didn't really want to believe it. Hopefully there were a few more people still living here, on this beach – was it an island, or just some random beach? Inhabited or uninhabited?

"There's a living one!"

Someone was here – thank God, he wasn't alone. Garraty turned to see a black-haired teen with a bad scar on one side of his face picking his way through the dead bodies toward him. Garraty tried to get up but ended up slipping on the sand, falling back. The fact that he was slightly dizzy may have helped with the 'falling down as soon as he tried to stand up' thing, too.

"You okay?" the black-haired boy asked, offering his hand. Garraty took it and the black-haired boy pulled him up. "What's your name?"

"Ray Garraty," he said, and the black-haired boy nodded, as if contemplating this.

"I'm Peter McVries," he said. "Parker's got everyone further inland – we're seeing if anyone lives here, if this actually is an island after all. Parker's already sent out a few guys, but I'm supposed to be taking another group around…"

Garraty blinked. He certainly was talkative – but now that he looked closer, he could see that McVries was a bit pale, so perhaps it was a coping mechanism. "Um," Garraty said. "What happened?"

McVries paused, and just then did Garraty realize that he was still holding the other boy's hand. He let go awkwardly and averted his eyes. They stood in an almost crippling silence until a sweet-looking blond boy bounded over. "McVries! Parker's getting a little bit mad," he said. "You should probably go soon."

"Yeah, yeah, Parker's an ass," McVries said, rolling his eyes. "I'll get it done when I get it done… go find Olson, will you? I can take you and him and… Garraty? Do you want to come?"

"Sure," Garraty said, still wondering what exactly had happened to put them onto this beach in the first place. They'd boarded the plane to get to somewhere… safe, he supposed, to get away from the war. Boys aged thirteen to seventeen on one plane, girls aged thirteen to seventeen on another. He remembered kissing Jan goodbye before getting on the plane; he'd sat beside a cheerful boy with glasses and a notebook.

He briefly wondered if the boy with the notebook was still alive, then decided that he didn't want to think about it, just in case he was dead.

"Coming?" McVries asked, and Garraty shook himself out of his thoughts to follow him. A few moments later the blond boy came back with a boy that was trying to look cocky but still trembling a little. "You okay, Hank?"

The boy who Garraty supposed was Hank Olson managed a grin. "Fan-fucking-tastic," he said. "Now c'mon. We don't want to take all day."

"I wanted to help bury the bodies," the blond said, glancing down at the body at their feet. "I'd prefer it if we could get back in time to help with that."

"Baker, you're weird," Olson said. Baker shrugged, grinning and turning a little pink. Olson threw an arm around Baker's shoulders and pulled him close. "But we like you anyway."

Garraty exchanged a look with McVries, who looked slightly amused, slightly confused. "Ahem," McVries said. "Are we going to be going anytime soon, or do you two want to go house shopping?"

Baker turned a darker shade of red and pulled himself away from Olson, who grinned and put his hands in his pockets. "Lead on," he said.

Garraty followed McVries off of the beach and into a forested, almost jungle-like area. After only a few minutes sweat trickled down his face and pricked at his back and he pulled off his jacket. It was ripped up anyway, and it didn't seem like it would get cold here, so he pitched it into the trees. It caught on a branch and hung there like an escaped convict that had slipped up and caught himself around the neck with a rope.

It was silent. Olson cracked a few jokes near the beginning of their trek, but soon the only sound was everyone breathing and Baker whistling every for a few minutes every once in a while.

After a while, McVries stopped. Garraty, not expecting this, ran into him and nearly fell. McVries caught him and righted him. "Still dizzy?" he asked. Garraty wiped sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand.

"I'm fine," he said. McVries sent a dazzling smile his way.

"Good," he said. "But we should take a break, anyway. Hey! Olson! We're taking a break!"

Garraty sat down, resting against a tree. McVries sat next to him, and, after a bit of hesitation, Olson sat on his other side. Baker disappeared into the trees for a moment before reappearing with an armful of bananas. They were demolished in minutes.

"I wonder what other kinds of food this place has?" McVries wondered. "Like, other fruit. Mangoes, maybe?"

"Maybe there are pineapples!" Baker asked, looking a bit excited. Olson smirked.

"What I'm hopin' for is something we can hunt. Like in that book. I forget what it's called, but I had to read it for school…" he trailed off, thinking. Baker, who still hadn't sat down, began to idly hit the trees around them with a stick.

"You mean Lord of the Flies?" he said. Olson nodded.

"That's the one."

"Well, if we're done discussing savages and symbolism, let's get going," McVries said, abandoning the tower of banana peels he'd been building and standing up. Garraty stood up as well, yawning. He was sort of tired – a plane crash did that to you, he guessed. "I'm thinking if we keep going up we can maybe see everything?"

"Does that actually work, though?" Baker asked. "I mean, what if there are too many trees to see properly?"

"We'll just have to hope that this place is a seriously nice island that gives us whatever we want," McVries said, shrugging. Garraty grinned and followed McVries. They went deeper into the forest, and Garraty noticed a slight incline. He hadn't noticed it before, but they had been going up.

It was a little boring on this island, but he figured that something would happen sooner or later to make it exciting. No school, at least.

McVries stopped and held out his hand to signal that the others were to stop, too. Garraty ran into his hand, and McVries kept it pressed to his chest for a few moments before lowering it. Olson stretched over McVries's shoulder to see why McVries had stopped.

A smallish, darkish boy in a black hoodie and jeans was stretched out on the forest floor. Garraty didn't know if he was sleeping or had been knocked unconscious – he looked like he'd been in a fight, with a large bruise on his left cheek and his lower lip a bit swollen, but he looked too…. Peaceful. Like a little kid, almost.

Baker is the one who moved, ducking past McVries and putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. The boy twitched. Baker shook his shoulder, and after a bit more twitching and Baker poking him a bit, he opened his eyes.

Almost at once his expression changed from childish peace to a sort of annoyed cockiness. Garraty wasn't quite sure how this expression worked, but it was certainly present on this kid's face. The kid jerked away from Baker's touch and looked at them.

"Who are you?" he asked. He seemed like he was trying to keep his tone neutral; trying to be normal.

"I'm Art Baker," Baker said, smiling at the kid. The kid turned slightly red, averting his gaze.

"Where are we?" the kid asked, apparently not caring about the rest of them. "I mean, I know the plane crashed. And I know that nobody on this godforsaken island has a Plan for what we're going to do until we're found. Not a decent one, anyway. I'm Gary Barkovitch, by the way."

Olson snorted and pushed his way past McVries and Garraty, looking down at Barkovitch. "Yeah? What's so special about having a 'Plan.'"

"You have to have a Plan," Barkovitch said, insulted. He began to talk faster, like he was afraid that they wouldn't care what he had to say unless he was talking at a hundred miles an hour. "If you don't you'll die. No, you need to have a Plan-"

"Look, kid, shut up," Olson said, cutting off Barkovitch mid-sentence. Barkovitch paused and shut his mouth. He looked like he was about to murder someone. Garraty rolled his eyes. "We're seeing if this really is an island, you can either come with us – which I don't think anyone here wants – or you can scram."

"No, you look, Dumbo," Barkovitch said, standing up. The top of his head barely was even with Olson's chin, but he crossed his arms and glared up at Olson anyway. "I-"

"If you say another word about your stupid 'Plan' I swear, I will fucking murder you," Olson said. Barkovitch looked like he was about to stay and argue more, but he turned on his heel and stalked away through the trees, swearing under his breath and ripping leaves off of branches and branches off of trees as he did so.

"You didn't have to be that mean," Baker said mildly. He was still crouched down from when he had woken Barkovitch up, and stood up fully. "I mean, sure, he seems a little annoying, but you made him run off. Who knows what he'll do? He seems kind of emotionally unstable."

Olson just looked at Baker, who shrugged.

"What?" he said.

McVries grinned and rolled his eyes. "C'mon. Let's keep going."

* * *

**i just really like long walk aus**

**like**

**i almost kind of feel like starting a high school au too**

**but**

**i probably won't**

**for a while**


	2. Chapter 2

After their run-in with Gary Barkovitch, everyone had returned to silence. Olson in particular looked irritated, muttering a bit under his breath here and there, but Baker still seemed mellow and McVries as weird as ever.

Garraty wasn't sure how he himself felt; a bit confused, a bit scared, but mostly he had no idea what was going on in his head. His emotions were all jumbled up. Had the other plane, the one with the girls, turned out okay? Was Jan okay? What about his parents? What was going on with the war? They didn't know _anything_, all because they were stuck on this goddam island. How the hell had they managed to get stuck here, anyway? Garraty didn't know. He had an idea that nobody else had an idea, either. They'd departed from Washington, D.C. – there had to be some symbolism in leaving from the nation's capital – and the next thing he knew, they were on this island.

"Well, Ray," McVries said, breaking the silence. "You look like you're having some deep thoughts. Willing to share?"

"It's nothing," Garraty said. "Just wondering what's going on…"

"In civilization?" McVries finished his sentence, sending him a quick smile. "I think everyone's been thinking about that, to some extent."

"And the girls' plane. Too bad they didn't crash here, too," Olson said, butting into their conversation. Baker laughed, and Olson looked back at him. "What? A guy has needs."

McVries rolled his eyes, and they lapsed back into silence. Eventually, they ended up at the other side of the island. "Well," McVries said. "I think it's safe to say we've successfully crossed the island. What do you say we head back and see what profanity-filled lesson Parker has for us now?"

"Who is this Parker guy, anyway?" Garraty asked, curious. McVries sighed, but it was Olson who answered.

"Tall. Blond. Badass as fuck," he said, shrugging. "Dunno how he managed to get himself put in charge, but his stupid ginger friend probably helped."

"Abraham's very charismatic," Baker said. "Everyone likes him but Olson."

"He's just a fucking prick," Olson sighed. "Almost as annoying as that Barkobitch weirdo or whatever his name was."

"I think it was a 'v'," McVries said.

"It would really suck if your last name was actually Barkobitch," Baker said, grinning. "Worst last name of all time, really."

"But let's not worry about those assholes," Olson said, slinging an arm around Baker's shoulders and managing to snag McVries with the other arm. "Let's stick together on this goddam island."

"Musketeers 'till the end?" Baker said, smiling a little.

"The three Musketeers – ah, hell, Garraty, get over here, we'll make it four," McVries said, reaching out and grabbing Garraty's wrist. "There we go. The four Musketeers."

…

By the time they got back what Garraty supposed was the camp night had fallen. A blond boy wearing a polo glanced up from the campfire he was poking with a stick. "Oh, McVries. Took you fucking forever," he said.

"It's an island," McVries said. Garraty glanced around. Everyone seemed to have just collapsed wherever they felt like; perhaps they would be building shelters later. Or something like that. It wasn't that cold, but if it happened to storm, they might want shelters. They'd have to make them sturdy, though… oh, there was the boy he'd sat next to on the plane! Thank God, he was still alive. "Just sleep wherever, then?"

"Yeah, unless you wanna help me watch this thing. It's a bitch to light, and we don't wanna waste all the goddam lighter fluid that actually works. How the hell're we gonna light it once that's gone? That stupid fucking book lied, you can't use glasses to light a goddam fire," he said. He looked at Garraty. "Oh. Haven't seen you before. I'm Collie Parker."

"Ray Garraty."

"Yeah, okay, just get out of here or do something productive," Parker snapped. Before Garraty followed McVries to a sheltered area, he heard Parker mutter "_Jeezus, _can't these guys do anything?" under his breath.

Well, they certainly had a good leader.

McVries, Garraty, Olson, and Baker decided to sleep a little further inland than most of them – under the trees and on the grass. It was nice, comfortable, and a comfortable temperature. They all started out a respectable distance away from each other.

Of course, in the morning, Garraty found himself pressed into McVries, McVries's arms around him clutching him in a strangling sort of hug. Garraty managed to wriggle and wake McVries up – good thing, too, or he may have been forced to hit him.

"Oh," McVries said, yawning. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Good, you're up," some random ginger with the voice of Satan said, and Garraty nodded. "Didn't catch your name last night…?"

"Garraty."

"Cool," Ginger looked like he didn't really care all that much, but he was making an effort, so Garraty figured he must not be that bad. "I'm Abraham. Garraty, why don't you go work with Davidson's group? They're planning on going to find some food; you can probably catch up with them if you go fast. McVries, Parker wants to see you."

He walked over to Baker and Olson and nudged Baker with his foot.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty," he said. It was Olson who woke up first. "Ew. Not you."

"Shut up, idiot," Olson said, glaring. McVries grabbed Garraty's arm.

"Well, time to get going!" he said cheerfully. "Let's leave them to their fights. If you want to bet on who's going to hit the other first, I think Harold Quince is taking bets. I've got mine on Olson."

"Uh," was all Garraty could manage, and McVries dragged him away.

"Davidson should be… oh, there he is. He's with Larson and Pearson. You'll have fun." And with that, he let go of Garraty and went off to find Parker. Garraty blinked. McVries was weird.

He managed to catch up with Davidson and his friends. Davidson was a handsome boy with dark blond hair and a way of making everything he did seductive. His only flaw were the pimples that dotted his forehead, but those would probably get covered up once his hair started to grow out – hold on. They weren't going to be on this island for very long, and even then, why the _hell _was he thinking about how attractive Davidson was?

Pearson and Larson were average-enough looking guys – Pearson wore glasses and too-big jeans, and Larson just looked kind of stupid – but with Davidson around, pulling them out of their shells, they seemed better than they probably actually were.

"So, you're Garraty, right?" Davidson asked. "Abe said you'd be joining us. I'm Davidson."

"Yeah," Garraty said, for lack of something better to say. Davidson just laughed and they continued along the beach until they came to the beginning of the forest. "You think there's anything but shitty bananas?"

"I saw a tree with some sort of fruit," Pearson said, cleaning off his glasses with his shirt. "Didn't get close enough to see what it was, though."

Davidson nodded, and they entered the area below the trees. Davidson discarded his shirt, throwing it into a tree. He was impressively muscled; not as much as Parker but he wasn't soft like some of the other boys looked (such as Larson) or overly scrawny (such as Pearson).

There was something purple in one of the other trees. "Hold on," Garraty said, and Davidson paused. Garraty pointed at the purple thing he'd seen, and Davidson walked for it carefully.

"Anyone there?" he called. "It's someone's legs- woah!"

Just as he'd gotten close, someone flipped upside-down, hanging from his legs. His blond hair hung away from his head in sweaty clumps, and Davidson apparently thought the best way to deal with this situation was to kiss the kid full on the lips.

The kid fell out of the tree.

"Sorry," Davidson said. "Reflex."

"Your reflex is to kiss people when they get close to you suddenly?" Garraty asked. Davidson looked back at him and nodded.

"Yeah. If they're cool, they stick around. If they're not, they get really freaked out and leave."

* * *

**wow it's been a while since i updated this**


	3. Chapter 3

The kid in the purple pants was named Stebbins. He looked awkward and quiet, but with Davidson there, practically _dragging _him out of his shell, they got some words out of him. Garraty was a bit fascinated with the boy. Most of this was because of his pants.

"Well!" Davidson said, one arm slung over Stebbins's shoulders. "Let's go see if we can find some decent food!"

"I saw a mango tree a bit further inland," Stebbins said softly. "It should take us little time to reach it."

Davidson grinned. "Great," he said. "It's not just shitty bananas."

They fell into silence that would've been awkward if it wasn't for Davidson, who seemed to make everything seem less forced. Pearson cleaned his glasses frequently; probably because he was getting sweat on them. Larson didn't speak, just looked around with a dumb smile on his face. Stebbins had drawn away from Davidson and now walked at the rear of the group. Garraty looked back at him every few seconds, wondering what was up with him. He was a weird kid. Maybe he was a bit freaked out by Davidson kissing him.

Garraty would be freaked out if that had happened to him.

After a few more moments of walking in silence, they ran into someone that Garraty hadn't really wanted to see again in the near future. It was true he'd only met the kid once, for about five minutes, but those five minutes had not made a good impression on him.

Carrying an armful of fruit toward a remote part of the island was Gary Barkovitch. He'd abandoned his hoodie, and was left in his gray t-shirt and jeans. His shoes were gone as well. Garraty wasn't sure why; even if he were to get rid of all of his other clothing he'd want to keep his shoes. Barkovitch's feet were already cut to shreds.

"Great!" Davidson said, bounding toward him. Barkovitch jumped, backing away from Davidson, who was advancing quickly, a huge grin on his face. "Now we won't have to work for as long."

"Fuck off," Barkovitch said, trying to duck around Davidson. "I'm not welcome back there, I'm sure as hell not picking food for you assholes."

"Oh, you're the kid that got in a fight with Rank," Davidson said. "He's still there, though; what made you think you weren't wanted?"

"Because I never am," Barkovitch said bluntly. "Seriously, Dumbo, get out of the way."

Davidson blinked, offended. "Well," he said. "I understand why you're not wanted. And I understand that we're just going to take this and be on our way."

"_Leave me alone,_" Barkovitch said, glancing around for an escape route. Davidson had him backed against a tree. Garraty watched as Davidson beckoned for them to come help. Larson was watching a butterfly or something and didn't understand. Pearson glanced at Garraty, who shrugged, and the two headed to back up Davidson.

"Pearson, hold the food while I give it to you. Garraty, hold him still," Davidson said. He plucked a piece of fruit off of the top and handed it to Pearson, who took off his shirt and used that as a sort of basket. "Hey, good idea."

"Wow, Four-eyes, getting sweat all over everything, great plan," Barkovitch said. Pearson flipped him off and Davidson continued piling the food from Barkovitch's arms into the makeshift basket. "Fuck you. Fuck all of you."

Davidson, who Garraty was learning was not that bad of a guy, left Barkovitch one shitty banana. Barkovitch glared at them and as they left, called "I'll dance on your graves! I'll _dance on all of your graves, don't you forget it!"_

"What a freak," Davidson said.

…

An hour or so later, after filling both Pearson and Garraty's shirts with fruit, they headed back to the campsite. Collie Parker was gone; McVries sat beside the fire in his place. "Apparently I'm good enough to be 'second in command. After Abraham.' So, basically, third-in-command," he said. Garraty dropped the fruit he was carrying, and Pearson's fruit joined his.

"Wow. That was quick for how much you've got," Abraham said, showing up out of nowhere. "What, did you steal it?"

"Yep!" Davidson said cheerfully. Abraham blinked.

"Um," he said. "I'm going to go back to helping Baker with his 'burying people' project. See you later."

With that, he loped off. Garraty sat down next to McVries, suddenly very tired and feeling sticky from the heat and sweat. McVries looked at him.

"You know, you could always go swimming to clean yourself off," he said. "Baker and his crew have already cleared the bodies off of that end."

"That sounds like a great idea!" Davidson said. He looked around. "Hey. Where's purple pants kid – Stebbins?"

"You probably scared him off," Pearson said. "People don't expect to be kissed when they first meet someone."

"Pity," Davidson said, shrugging. "Well, he'll probably join the freak we stole the food from."

"Who?" McVries asked.

"Barkovitch," Garraty said, and McVries nodded slowly.

Almost as soon as he said the name, Collie Parker came back, Barkovitch slung over his shoulder. Barkovitch was swearing and kicking and trying to hit Parker to get him to put him down. Parker was indifferent to his struggles.

"Found this little shit wandering around, muttering about stupid people who stole his food and decided it was time for him to stop being so damn antisocial," Parker said.

"I'm not antisocial! Everyone hates me!" Barkovitch wailed.

"Quiet, you," Parker said. "Hand me a mango, Four-eyes."

"My name's Pearson," Pearson said.

"Whatever," Parker said, and Pearson handed him a mango, which he handed back to Barkovitch. "Now shut the fuck up."

"Does anyone really want him here?" McVries asked. Parker shrugged, and Barkovitch began to complain loudly. "Screw it. C'mon, Ray, let's go clean ourselves up. Parker can take the fire back over… or Pearson, or Davidson – wait, he's gone. Well, see you bastards in hell."

With that, McVries stood up and walked off. Garraty followed. McVries confused him.

They managed to find a pretty secluded area with no bodies. McVries stripped immediately.

Well.

He wasn't wasting any time.

Garraty, after turning bright red at McVries just taking his clothes off just like that, got undressed as well. McVries was pretty far out before he got into the water, wincing as the cuts on his legs stung with the salt water.

McVries appeared next to him, soaking wet and grinning. "It's nice here, isn't it?" he asked. "Despite the fact that half of us died in the crash, it's a nice vacation."

Garraty laughed. McVries was weird, but it was true. He'd much rather be here than at home in Maine, going to school and things like that. This was probably better than where they had been headed, too.

The island really was a paradise.

* * *

**ok**

**i have a plan sort of i'm not sure yet**

**but**

**yeah**

**here we go**


	4. Chapter 4

Before Garraty could react, McVries grabbed him by the shoulders and dunked him under the water. He pushed his way back up to the surface, gasping. McVries was laughing.

Garraty decided that the best course of action to take was to take him, the fact that they were both completely naked be damned. McVries went down, still laughing and choking when he got water in his mouth. He pulled Garraty down with him. Garraty just managed to keep his head above water, wondering when the last time he'd had this much _fun _was.

They battled in the sea for a few more minutes before making their way for the show. Garraty collapsed on the sand and immediately regretted it. He was going to need to re-wash before he put his clothes back on. And he was probably going to get a sunburn. Damn it. He picked himself up and headed back out, getting the sand off of him as efficiently as he could. It took a lot less time than it had before, because there was no McVries to distract him. Once he got done and out, a freshly dressed McVries handed him his clothes. The other boy's black hair stuck to his face, to his scar…

The scar… Garraty really wondered about the scar.

He asked about it as he got dressed. "So, how'd you get the scar?" he asked. McVries looked startled.

"The _scar_," he said. He sounded almost bitter. Garraty wondered if he shouldn't have waited to ask this question. "Love sucks, Ray Garraty. Or maybe it doesn't when you have a normal girl; I wouldn't know. But all romantic love I've ever known sucks."

"Oh," Garraty said, unsure what to say. Now fully dressed, he realized just how hungry he was. "I'm hungry. Let's go get something to eat."

"That's a fantastic idea," McVries said, slinging an arm around Garraty's shoulders and walking him back to the place with the fire and the fruit. Pearson was watching the fire with the other bespectacled boy – the one who'd liked writing. Harkness. The fruit was mostly gone, only a few bananas and a mango were left. "Anyone mind if we take these?" McVries asked, scooping up two bananas and the mango. Pearson waved a hand at them.

"Take it," he said, shrugging. McVries grinned at Garraty and took off through the trees. Garraty followed, having nothing better to do. Also, he wanted that mango. If he didn't follow McVries, he'd be stuck with one runty banana that wasn't even ripe yet.

McVries eventually stopped in a pretty clearing. He sat down on a fallen tree, and Garraty sat beside him. McVries handed him one of the bananas wordlessly. Garraty ate quickly, eying the mango.

"I thought we'd share it," McVries said, shrugging. "I mean, it was either that or rock-paper-scissors, and I suck at rock-paper-scissors."

"Okay," Garraty said. McVries took a bite of the mango and handed it over to Garraty. Garraty bit off the other side and handed it back. They passed the fruit between them, and eventually McVries tossed the weird skinny pit-thing away from them.

"This is a decent place," McVries said. "A hell of a lot better than New Jersey."

"Better than Maine, too," Garraty said. "Except the fact that we'll be stuck with fruit for a while."

"Fruit for the rest of our miserable lives!" McVries said, grinning at Garraty. Garraty grinned back.

"Hate to break up your lovely little date, but we're having a meeting," Olson drawled. Garraty glanced up. Olson was standing a few feet away, looking at them with raised eyebrows. Garraty flushed a little and stood up. "Coming, McVries?"

"Yeah, yeah, hold on," McVries muttered, throwing a banana peel at him. Olson rolled his eyes and walked away. Garraty followed him, glancing at McVries, who looked pissed. McVries seemed to have a mood-swing problem.

Back at their lame little camp, Parker was standing in the center of the group. Everyone except Abraham and Barkovitch sat – Abraham stood leaning against a tree near the edge of the group and Barkovitch was slouched against a tree on the opposite side, glaring at them – and McVries and Garraty saw nothing better to do but join them.

"Finally fucking joining us?" Parker asked. McVries gave him the finger. He rolled his eyes. "Anyway. We're gonna get… organized, or some shit. Really, if it was up to me, you'd all just do whatever you goddam want. But people keep asking me 'what they're supposed to do' and 'what's going on' and to be honest, it's just really fucking annoying. So. This is what we're going to do. Abe's in charge of building shelters so we don't fucking freeze if there's a storm or something. Baker's in charge of body burial. Davidson's in charge of food. I'm in charge of all you bastards. If you want to complain, complain to McVries because I don't want to fucking hear it."

"What happens once we start going savage?" Stebbins asked. Parker muttered something obscene under his breath and sighed.

"Well, freak, we're just not gonna let that happen," he said. "Why the hell would-"

"That's what a few dozen British schoolboys thought, too," Stebbins said, nodding. "They went psycho."

"Look, if you're tryin' to reference that goddam book about the goddam island and pig head or whatever, just shut the fuck up," Parker said. "Who the hell would be psycho enough to try and fucking kill a pig. I don't even know if there are pigs on this goddam island."

"It'd be nice if there was some sort of animal," some kid said. "I don't want to eat fruit forever."

"Someone can lead some guys to fish or whatever," Parker said, waving a hand dismissively. "Now, we've got like half a fucking day left or whatever. Abe, get these guys building. I'm going to go take a nap. I'm fucking exhausted."

"Feel like slipping off to fish?" McVries asked Garraty. "Isn't it stereotypical for people who fish to be from Maine?"

Garraty rolled his eyes. "Fine, whatever," he said. "Let's go."

* * *

**This chapter was fun so much Gavries goodness.**


	5. Chapter 5

Ray Garraty sucked at fishing.

McVries had managed to round up a few more guys to go with them, some people that Garraty didn't really know or care about. They'd split up, Garraty, McVries, and Larson going one way, the other three going the other way. Larson walked in front of them because he had a tendency to wander off and Garraty wanted to know the vague direction he'd wandered off in.

Because Garraty sucked at fishing, he'd led them in a direction that rose to cliffs. They couldn't find a suitable spot to fish, so they just kept walking. McVries looked at him like he knew what Garraty was thinking when he suggested they go this way. Garraty didn't know what to do, so he looked back at McVries. McVries rolled his eyes.

"You can't fish, can you?" McVries asked. Garraty shook his head.

"Not really," he admitted. "But I think we'll be fine, right?"

McVries laughed. "Maybe some of the others know how the fish. Curly looks like he maybe does," he said. There was a slight pause. "So what do you propose we do?"

Garraty was about to answer when the bit of cliff that Larson was walking on broke and he fell screaming toward the waves and sharp rocks. "Larson!" Garraty said, lunging toward the hole. McVries wrapped his arms around Garraty's waist and hauled him back. "Let me go! We can't just-"

"There's nothing we can do," McVries said, pulling Garraty backward. Larson's body had been impaled on one of said sharp rocks and he was stuck there, blankly staring out at the world. Garraty very nearly threw up. "We just need to get back. Get Baker."

"Get the mortician, great," Garraty muttered. "You can let go of me now."

McVries let go of him and Garraty sort of regretted telling him he could. The feeling of McVries's arms around him had been comforting, a little weird, but comforting, especially when he'd just seen a guy fall to his death.

They walked back to the camp in silence, close to each other for comfort. Garraty felt empty, though he didn't know why – he didn't know Larson that well, and had, in fact, thought him annoying. But that didn't mean that he'd wanted him to die, especially not that quick, violent death that he'd had.

Once they got back to camp, looking and feeling exponentially more gloomy than they had when they left, Abraham gave them a funny look. "Who died?" he asked. Garraty paled.

"Larson," McVries said bluntly, and Abraham blinked.

"What- no, seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously," McVries said. "Where's Baker?"

"I'll take you to him," he said. He turned back to his crew. "Hey, just keep working on stuff. I've gotta go see a dead body."

Half of them gave him the finger, the other half ignored him. Abraham rolled his eyes and led McVries and Garraty to the far end of the beach, where Baker was conducting mass burial. A gigantic hole had been dug just inland, and people were pushing bodies in while others were gathering bodies from the beach. Gary Barkovitch was sitting on a rock, carving something in a large slab of wood with a switchblade. A makeshift headstone, perhaps?

"Baker!" Abraham said. "They need you."

Baker hurried away from his supervision and joined them. He was sweaty and his light blond hair stuck to his face in clumps. He smiled. "What's up?"

"Larson's dead. We didn't know what to do, so we decided to find you," McVries said. "You seem the most comfortable with dead people."

Baker blinked. "Oh, alright," he said. "Are you coming, too, Abe?"

Abraham, who looked like he was going to be sick, shook his head. "Nope," he said. His voice sounded raw, like he was about to puke. "I'm going to go back and build some shelters."

"Alright," Baker said. He turned to Barkovitch. "Once you're done with that one, could you make one for Larson?"

Barkovitch merely nodded, something that seemed a bit odd to Garraty, seeing as he'd been more of a 'talk for an annoyingly long period of time' sort of guy before.

McVries led the way, Baker and Garraty following him. "So, how'd it happen?" Baker asked. They all seemed far too casual about this. Someone was _dead_. Of course, maybe Baker had been completely desensitized to this sort of thing, seeing as he was the official burial crew of the group.

"We were walking along this cliff and it just _broke_ and he fell," Garraty said. He took a deep breath. "I don't know how it happened. It's… just… thank God he was walking in front of me and McVries or it would have been one of us."

It would have been McVries. McVries was walking on the outside, Garraty under the shade of the trees because he was paler. Garraty didn't want to think of what would happen if he lost McVries. He didn't want to think about that possibility. He didn't want to imagine running back to find Baker if it had been McVries impaled on that rock. He'd only known Peter McVries for about a day, true, but something about this sort of situation made relationships build faster and, at the moment, Peter McVries was the best friend he'd ever had.

Baker was nodding. "Alright," he said. "So he's in the water? I think you guys will have to help me. You can swim, right?"

"Yeah," Garraty said. The rest of the way to the scene of Larson's death was silent. Garraty found himself watching the back of McVries's head and wishing that he was walking beside him like he'd been on the way to find Baker.

Once they got to where the beach started to incline, McVries stopped. "We better start here," he said. He took off everything but his underwear. Garraty and Baker copied him, and they started to walk through the water. It went to Garraty's knees and was rising a bit.

"Wave!" McVries warned, and Garraty looked up just in time to be pushed over by a wave. He just missed knocking his head on the steadily rising cliff. Baker was knocked into the cliff and looked a bit dizzy when he stood back up. "Watch out for those."

"Yeah," Garraty said, and the three set off again.

There were a few more big waves that, if they didn't press themselves against the cliff, knocked them around. Once McVries hit a dropoff and Garraty was about to dive after him when he swam back to the surface, grabbing onto a rock jutting out of the side of the cliff. "Watch out there!" he gasped.

Eventually, they got to Larson's body. It was exactly like they'd left it. Baker got to work right away, wriggling Larson's body off of the rock. Garraty winced. Larson's back had been broken in the fall as well as being impaled. It looked like his neck had broken, too.

"Garraty, can you take his feet?" Baker asked. He was holding Larson under the armpits. McVries would navigate again, Garraty assumed as he grabbed onto Larson's feet. "Alright. Let's head back."

The way back took even longer; so long, in fact, that by the time they got back a grave was already dug and Barkovitch had started on the headstone. The sun was low in the sky, and Garraty was hungry. "Feel like grabbing something to eat?" McVries asked Garraty, who nodded.

They headed back to the camp, more ready than ever to eat and fall asleep.

* * *

**it took so long for me to write this i really don't know where i'm going with it**


	6. Chapter 6

"A funeral?" Parker asked. "Why the hell do we need a funeral? We need some fuckin' food and some goddam shelters, not a funeral."

Baker was determined to get this funeral, however, and shook his head. "It'll only take a little bit. Ten minutes, tops," he said. Parker sighed. "Please?"

"Fucking fine," he said. "But don't expect me to be there. And tell everyone there to get their asses back here as soon as the goddam thing's over. Abe says we need to have regular meetings or some shit."

"Alright!" Baker said, smiling cheerfully and heading back to the gravesite. Barkovitch had finished Larson's headstone and had laid it on his grave. Some other guys were getting ready to dig a place for the headstone and Barkovitch looked half-asleep. "Okay! Everyone get the others! We're having a funeral!"

There was some grumbling, but eventually everyone dispersed to get their friends, apart from Barkovitch, who stayed exactly where he was, and Ewing, who continued to dig the spot for Larson's headstone. Looking at Ewing, Baker felt horrible, so he just didn't. They'd rode up to D.C. together – Baker was from Louisiana and Ewing from Texas – and it had simultaneously been the most awkward and gut-wrenching moments of Baker's life. Because Ewing was black, and Baker had been a night rider for three years.

He'd tried to put that out of his mind, however, and tried to pretend that Ewing wasn't there, that he didn't have to internally freak out every time he looked at him. But then Ewing had decided to join the burial crew and it had all gone downhill from there.

Thank God Ewing didn't know. Baker didn't know what he would do if Ewing did know.

Eventually, all of the boys on the island – minus Collie Parker who, true to his word, had skipped it – were gathered around the graves. They gave them a wide berth, like they were expecting the dead boys to rise up out of the graves. Baker sure hoped they wouldn't. Not only would it be something straight out of a horror novel, but it had been hard work digging those graves. They hadn't had any shovels, they'd had to dig a huge one for the mass of guys that had died in the plan crash, and half of the people didn't want to do anything. They started out scratching into the dirt with sticks and rocks, and eventually were just using their hands to scoop dirt and rocks and worms out of the ground.

Baker looked around and decided that it was time to start. "Alright," he said, giving them a slightly nervous smile. He was good at speaking in front of a bunch of people, but only if he knew how to start. "Now, as you know, most of these guys died in the plane crash. Larson – thanks, Ewing, for putting that there – died just today when a cliff collapsed under him and he fell into the ocean. Thanks to a lot of guys that helped out and Barkovitch who carved the headstones, it'd be really hard to do this by myself."

The guys gave themselves a round of applause. Baker could see Barkovitch slip off and didn't blame him. These guys were applauding for him, after all. They hated him already, Baker could see that. Baker took pity on the kid – he was annoying, but he was damn good with that switchblade of his and had made quick work of the headstones. One read 'Nameless Boys – Died in plane crash' and the other read 'Larson – Fell off of cliff.' It was a shame that they hadn't known Larson's first name, but it worked.

"Now, I think we ought to just take a moment to mourn the ones who aren't alive anymore. None of us really knew them, but we still want to mourn them, don't we? Don't roll your eyes like that, Olson, what if it's you next? There are a lot of things on this island we don't know and we ought to be careful and mourn the ones who ain't," Baker said. He took a deep breath and bowed his head, staring down at his clasped hands and the graves. It had been a lot of hard work and taken a lot of time, but they were done for now and he could help Abe with the shelters or help Davidson find food tomorrow.

There were a few moments of silence, then it began to break up. Baker let them go, watching as they melted into the shadows and headed back to the main area. Abraham appeared next to him and Baker acknowledged him with a nod.

"You did good, talking up there," Abraham said.

"Yeah," Baker said. He allowed a mischievous smile even with the sober feeling to the place. "Better than you would've done."

"You don't know that!" Abraham protested and Baker gave him a shove and headed back through the trees. He could hear Abraham crashing through the trees behind him and laughed a little. He was about as subtle as a deer in the middle of the road. "C'mon, Art, get back here!"

Baker caught a hold on one of the branches and hoisted himself up, managing to wriggle his way to lying on the branch. He couldn't really see with how dark it had gotten, but he could hear Abraham perfectly. There was an excitement in the night he hadn't felt in a while. He'd forgotten how wonderful it was to be out at night when it was warm and dark and quiet enough that you could hear the subtle things – the crickets chirping, the wind ruffling the leaves, thing like that. And, of course, Abraham breaking branches and cursing.

He could see the shadowy form of Abraham come through the trees and readied himself. The branch was starting to creak dangerously, so he'd have to hurry. Abraham had to duck to get under the branch Baker was on – really, it was a good thing Abraham wasn't very observant, he would've seen Baker for sure if he wasn't – and Baker took this chance to drop down onto his back. This probably wasn't the best idea, seeing as Abraham stood up fast and smacked Baker's head against the tree.

He felt dizzy, feeling himself going limp and clutching to Abraham's neck. Abraham, understandably, freaked out, trying to twist around and get him off of his back and back to camp. Baker knew that he should probably let go and let Abraham do his thing, but it was tough when he didn't want to fall.

Half-conscious, Baker eventually fell from Abraham's back and hit the ground with a soft thud. Abraham turned and picked him up, muttering curses under his breath as he carried him back to camp.

* * *

**this was getting really hard to write so i switched povs**


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